


Glitch in the System: Pure Morning

by SystemGlitch



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Morning Sex, oblivious gabriel is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 00:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12593564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SystemGlitch/pseuds/SystemGlitch
Summary: By E.Gabe happens.Everyone is uncomfortable except Widowmaker, who has wholesale run out of fucks to give.





	Glitch in the System: Pure Morning

It was later than usual when they awoke, but Sombra was tired of data after indulging in so much distraction the past week or so. At that moment she was content to stay put, secure and warm despite the chilled aura the sniper perpetually projected. At some point it had stopped being a novelty and had become comforting; a cool, safe place to rest when everything else was on fire.

And oh, how frequently did the world burn when they were around.

Widowmaker, it seemed, held similar expectations for the morning, waking up and almost immediately rolling atop the hacker.

“ _Buenos días_ ,” Sombra said, lips pressed into a smile against the sniper’s throat, laying kisses along the trail of her jawbone. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” she replied lazily, attention elsewhere as she brushed away Sombra’s wayward hair to gain access to her ear. “ _Comme un loir._ ”

“Don’t you have work to get done?” she teased, tugging at Widowmaker’s robe until the sniper slipped it off and tossed it on the floor. Sombra ran her fingertips lightly over the perfectly smooth skin of her shoulder and down the length of her spine, greedily indulging in everything she’d missed since they had returned from the chateau.

“Plenty,” Widowmaker murmured, her lips finding Sombra’s at the same time her fingers found the hem of her nightshirt. She pulled it upward and off with practiced ease, dropping it unceremoniously beside her own shed clothing. “A day’s worth, in fact.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Sombra said, grinning. She’d craved their easy intimacy more than she’d realized, and despite her own workload, was rather content to let the morning stretch on as long as possible.

Talon, however, seemed to have different ideas for the trajectory of their day as a firm knocking rattled Sombra’s door.

“Sombra?” came a voice to accompany the knock. “Have you seen Widowmaker?” Predictably, Gabriel had picked the worst time to make his presence known. Sombra growled in frustration at the interruption and resigned herself to a raincheck.

The sniper, positioned directly above her, looked down. Sombra raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the door.

Widowmaker smiled slowly, and with it came a note of deviousness as she leaned over and placed a kiss in the center of Sombra’s chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sombra hissed under her breath to the top of the spider’s head. Grabbing a handful of the endless dark hair that pooled over the bedsheets, she tugged until Widowmaker looked up and acknowledged her.

“ _Je ne joue pas_ ,” she replied, placing another kiss lower against her navel.

“Sombra?” Gabriel called again, knocking louder.

“ _Sí, jefe,_  I have,” she replied, gritting her teeth as another, firmer kiss landed against her left hip.

“Well, where is she?” he asked.

“Gabriel asked you a question,” Widowmaker murmured against the inside of one thigh, dragging her nails against Sombra’s ribs when the hacker didn’t immediately respond.

“She’s in the mansion somewhere,” was her harried response, fingers curled within the bedsheets as she attempted to transmute Widowmaker’s relentless teasing somewhere else. “Probably reading or,” she gasped as the insistent flick of Widow’s tongue hit its mark between her legs, “something.”

“Just tell me, Sombra,” he responded drily, clearly not in the mood for her evasiveness.

“Now isn’t a good time, Gabe,” she choked out. The spider increased the pressure of her attentions ever so slightly, which, in combination with the sheer predicament she’d placed them in, was doing wonders at driving Sombra directly up the wall.

 “What do you mean?” he asked, maddeningly persistent in his inane line of questioning. “It’s 8am.” Widowmaker walked her hands down Sombra’s sides, clawing at the hacker’s skin in time with the rhythm of her tongue.

“ _Fuck_. What?” she said in response, his previous words wiped clean from her memory and replaced with a shot of longing adrenaline.

“You know I’m your boss, right?” he said, his tone not quite threatening, but not entirely joking either.

“ _Sí, yo se_ ,” she replied, reaching behind her head to grab the headboard with one hand, her other tangled in Widowmaker’s hair. “ _Pero ahora estoy un poco ocupado_.”

“Doing?”

 _“En serio_?” she replied, incredulous at the man’s utter lack of perception, fighting to control her body as Widow relentlessly grabbed her hips and held them in place. Patient even under duress, the rhythmic pressure of the spider’s lips between her legs coaxed a series of small yelps from Sombra’s throat as she dragged her closer and closer to incoherence.

“Sombra, answer me!”

“ _VUELVE MAS TARDE, GABRIEL_ ,” she shouted haltingly, heat rising through her body from her toes to the top of her head with a rush of endorphins, and she quickly turned her face to bury the subsequent shriek into her pillow as she gave in and let the spider win.

Widowmaker pushed herself up from the hacker’s huddled form, crawling astride her and placing a kiss on her cheek before rolling off the bed and retrieving her clothing. Sombra groaned, tugging the bed sheet over herself as she curled into a ball of exhausted petulance.

“ _Bonjour_ , Gabriel. Here I am!” the spider said, singsong and flippant as she opened the door and smiled. “You need something?”

Gabriel blinked several times, looking uncomfortably at Widowmaker in her robe and bare feet, his internal processing punctuated by the sounds of Sombra’s expletive-laden stream of consciousness coming from inside the bedroom.

“…it can wait,” he said, turning from the scene and returning downstairs.


End file.
